The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.